


Blood and Glory

by tonyendo



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Blood and Injury, Daddy Issues, F/M, Self-Harm, Self-Mutilation, chloe arrives at the worst times
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-10
Updated: 2020-05-10
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:27:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24113536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tonyendo/pseuds/tonyendo
Summary: In his time upon Earth, he’d come to realize that he was a wolf among sheep, and how oh–so–fragile their flock was.
Relationships: Chloe Decker & Lucifer Morningstar
Comments: 9
Kudos: 76





	Blood and Glory

**Author's Note:**

> Hey this ones gonna hurt

Everything came to a head—the hatred for his father, the resentment of being a pawn, the pain of knowing that he was cursed to relive this hell day after day, and for what? This ‘gift’ was causing him to feel more and more chained down. How ironic, really.

Lucifer let out a deep, demonic growl as the blade scraped along his flesh. The knife cut through the tendons that joined the damned, unwanted appendages to his body. It felt as though he’d sawed them off a million times. Knowing he’d have to do it a million more was like a slap in the face. In actuality, it was only the third time, yet even then it was two too many.

This time, he couldn’t bring himself to stop. Even when his wings fell beside him, extended and covered with his blood, he couldn’t stop. It was if he could still feel them weighing him down, pressing to be released from within him. The bite of the demon’s knife dug into his flesh once more, where the original scarring was now mared once more. Perhaps— _perhaps_ if they had nothing to _grip_ to—

Lucifer’s growls turned to outright howls of agony as he dug the blade deeper into his back. The worst of the pain was over. The hardest part had been severing the bone. This, _this_ was more psychological pain, feeling as though mutilating himself felt like the only option left.

He was _not_ an angel. He may have been created from love and light, but he’d carved his own path through the darkness. Samael was dead and Lucifer had paved the way to Hell. He was the _Prince_ of _darkness_ , the ultimate _punisher,_ a _warden._ He’d fallen and for the most part… he’d accepted it.

The wings, feathers rippling with divine light, only served to remind him of his roots. Roots he’d cut off once before, right between the shoulder blades.

Embrace the pain, Linda had told him in many more words. Oh, _Linda_ . Letting that pain in did nothing but hurt and _hurt_ and **_hurt_ **.

Crimson blood, too mortal, too much, flowed from the wounds like sap from an oak. Lucifer’s entire bathroom had become smeared in the hot, tacky substance. At one point he’d flinched and slammed the, at the time , intact wing into the mirror, promptly shattering it. Another problem for another time.

Even as tears began to flow freely, he continued to dig the curved blade into his flesh. He’d flay himself alive if it meant freedom, if it meant free will. He was _no one’s_ pawn, and never would be.

Sobs began to echo off the bathroom tiles. “ _What the hell do you want with me?_ ” He shouted, face turned upwards, tears streaming freely. Lucifer gagged in pain as he slammed the blade into himself once more. “W—“ he choked down acrid bile,— “w _hy can’t you let me be my own man?!_ Why do you _insist_ on this _stupid game?!_ ”

Rain pattered against the window, the steady drum the only noise aside from his choked sobs. Never an answer. _Dad of the millennia,_ he thought bitterly, gripping the handle of the blade.

With shaking fingers, Lucifer finally dropped it, ignoring as it clattered to the floor of his bathtub. Bright red footprints glistened on the tile as he stumbled his way towards the vanity.

Digging in his slack’s pockets, his trembling hands eventually found what they sought. Lucifer put a cigarette to his lips and attempted to light it. It took several attempts, but it finally caught and he exhaled in relief. The throbbing and stinging in his back had dulled, his immortality already beginning to slowly stitch him back together. It would take longer than usual, given the nature of Maze’s blade.

Lucifer sat on the edge of the tub, smoke lingering from his cigarette. The silence enveloped him, even his thoughts quiet for the time being. The crying had stopped, the pain was _mildly_ bearable, and the rain was still falling. He took another long drag of his cigarette before reaching back and flicking the ash onto his severed wings.

The longer he sat, the wearier he felt. Drained. Emotionally, physically. For a moment he tipped dangerously before catching himself on the edge of the tub.

He was still bleeding, and was growing faint.

Why was he still bleeding? He was only vulnerable when the detective was near, and he highly doubted—

“Lucifer?”

_Oh, for fuck’s sake._

Her voice was distant, and he assumed she was near the front of the penthouse. With a grunt, he pushed himself to stand, his legs feeling like jelly, and not in the good way. Lucifer moved as fast as he could, panicking and trying to find some way to prevent her from coming in.

Swiftly, he snubbed out his cigarette on the marble. He ran his hands under the faucet, trying in a vain attempt to wash the blood from his hands. It wasn’t doing much good. Head to toe, he was covered in it, and his bathroom wasn’t looking much better.

“Lucifer?” Chloe repeated, sounding closer.

“Chloe!” His voice wobbled as he tried to sound like his normal, charming self. “I wasn’t expecting you. Wish you would have called, would have made myself _presentable_.”

He could hear her scoff through the door. “Yeah, I just… sorry, I’ve just been thinking.”

Lucifer scrubbed furiously, trying to get it from under his nails, splashing water onto his face. Within the cracked mirror, he caught a glimpse of his warped reflection. Bloody hell, literally, he looked like Patrick Bateman.

“You’ve always been there for me. Even if we don’t see eye to eye, you always… you always come around, and you care about me,” Chloe admitted through the door. She was just on the other side, from the way her voice sounded. “I want to be there for you, Lucifer. If… if you still want to talk, I’m here to listen to whatever you have to say. You don’t have to hide from me.”

Lucifer chuckled humorlessly, shutting the faucet off with more force than necessary. “You don't even know the half of it,” he muttered.

A swift knock. “Are you alright?”

“Just—“ Lucifer flinched as his knees wobbled and almost gave out. “You shouldn’t be here, detective. Go home.” He couldn’t lie to her.

He wasn’t fine.

For a man always prying into other’s desires, Lucifer was terrible at accepting his own. The truth was he didn’t _want_ Chloe to go, but… he knew if she didn’t there was no coming back. He’d terrify her, like all the others. In his time upon Earth, he’d come to realize that he was a wolf among sheep, and oh, how fragile their flock was.

For the first time in months, Lucifer felt truly alone. Nothing, not even the deep gashes on his back, stung like the realization of how lonely he’d become. He’d killed Uriel, cast his own mother into an entirely new universe. Maze was _angry_ with him frequently—which, normally, wasn’t an issue, but he’d come to realize how much he depended on her company. For weeks he’d believed he’d broken Linda. Now, tensions were forming between him and Chloe yet again. It seemed the discourse between the two never stopped growing.

If she saw him like this… well, Lucifer knew he’d break her, just like he’d broken all the others. Then she’d be gone.

Perhaps it’s what he deserves.

Chloe didn’t seem satisfied with his answer, though. “First you want to talk to me, now you don’t. Pick one, Lucifer! You keep doing this, and— and I keep trying to come around, and each time I do you just shut me out!”

Lucifer leaned against the door, grunting as pain shot through his shoulder blades. “Chloe,” he began, struggling to even flip the lock. “Please. Just go home, I’m dealing with something—“

The doorknob rattled right after he managed to get the lock done. “Did you just lock me out? What, are you too busy having sex in there?”

“No one’s in here,” he assured her, winded. Woozy, he started to walk away but ended up falling back once more for support, a pained shout leaving him as his back collided with the door frame—right between the joint where his wings used to be.

“Are you hurt? Lucifer, I’m coming in—“

“No, Detective!” He shouted, slamming a hand into the wood. His fingers shook before they clenched into a fist. “Leave me be! You can’t help me!”

His teeth shook in his skull as the door did. Goodness, she truly _was_ going to break down the door. “Bloody hell, Detective, do you know how expensive that is to import?! I’d appreciate it if—“

Her boot slammed into the wood once more, giving Lucifer only a few moments to attempt to scramble back before Chloe successfully kicked it in.

He fell onto his side, a demonic growl ripping from his throat at the pain. Black specks began to cloud his vision, his ears to ring. The tips of his fingers felt light and tingly, his limbs cold. _Like a drug trip gone bad_ , he chuckled mentally in distraught. 

The door finally gave way, splintering across the tile. 

“Lucifer?!”

Painfully, he rolled over onto his abdomen. His gaze lazily shifted up to Chloe from his position on the floor. “Ah… Detective, welcome. Give me… a moment…”

His head slumped forward as his energy gave way and he fell unconscious.


End file.
